


Late To Work

by pRESENTMIC



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Fluff, IT'S THAT FIC, This is very happy, and kind of disgusting, based off of someone i know, i cant do tags, i did my best to make hamilton annoying, i know someone like alexander, im not in the mood, kinda OOC, let's be honest thomas hated him, one time he wasnt, two times, yeah - Freeform, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8335891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pRESENTMIC/pseuds/pRESENTMIC
Summary: Two times Alexander was a nuisance.The one time he wasn't.





	

Thomas sighed as he shoved his slipping glasses up the bridge of his nose. His contacts were long gone. He had been unlucky enough to drop them in the toilet after a late night rush. He checked his watch. Six forty. He dropped his wrist and rubbed his face, why had he agreed to go to that party last night? He didn’t even remember the name of the guy who had invited him! As he turned his head he noticed the upcoming bus. ‘Finally.’ Thomas rolled his eyes internally. He stepped forward, ready to board.

The bus came to a stop in front of him, the warm gasoline smell filling up the air. The doors opened and as Thomas lifted a foot to get on, he was bombarded with the living mess: Alexander Hamilton.

“Wow! I was almost late! Good thing I wasn’t, right Jefferson?” Hamilton grinned, feigning innocence. 

Thomas gave him a tight smile. Why Hamilton was being unusually less aggressive towards him was a mystery Thomas wasn’t planning to solve. “Yeah. Great.” He gave a polite nod to the driver and inserted his fare into the electronic receiver. 

Thomas sat down on the inside of one of the seats, the bus was particularly congested today. He opened his bag to grab his phone to listen to some music, when Hamilton plopped down besides him. He looked at him pointedly.

“Nowhere else to sit.” Was his explanation.

Giving up on avoiding Hamilton, Thomas plugged in his earbuds and lost himself in the music of Beethoven. A few minutes of blissed silence passed between the two.

A finger poked his side, almost painfully. Thomas raised a brow and looked at Hamilton. He received an excited smile. Narrowing his eyes, Thomas shook his head to whatever idea Hamilton was forming.

Hamilton gestured the now empty seats. Thomas realized that it had been long enough for everyone to leave. They were getting off on the last stop after all. Nodding, Thomas acknowledged Hamilton, hoping to escape Hamilton’s attention.

Another poke, followed by Hamilton lunging towards him with his tongue protruding out of his disgusting mouth. 

Thomas gave an undignified shriek and ripped the buds out of his ear as he dodged the (well-aimed) attack. He put his hands up and held his palm against Hamilton’s forehead.

“What. The actual-Hamilton. What are you trying to do?” Thomas scooted as far away as he could from Hamilton.

Hamilton moved his arms as he spoke, “Well, my goal is to get you to bang the back of your head onto the surface of this lovely glass five times.”

Thomas frantically shoved Hamilton away from him. “You’re clearly high.”

Hamilton gave him a mock sound of disbelief, “Why, Mr. Jefferson! Such profanity! Also, no, I’m not on drugs. I’m doing this to annoy you.”

“Of course you are.” Thomas scoffed, abandoning his music as he shoved his phone back into his bag. “I’m going to sit here, and ignore you. And you’re not going to-!”

Hamilton lunged at him with no warning, causing Thomas to smack his head rather heftily on the glass behind him. A burst of pain bloomed from the area of contact. Groaning, Thomas cradled the back of his (probably bruised) head. 

Laughter greeted his oncoming headache, “Oh, my God! I actually got you to hit your head, I am a genius! Wait, let me take a picture!” Following with the sound of a camera shutter. “I am sending this to John! Ba hah!” The bus came to a stop. Hamilton gleefully got up from his set and departed the bus.

Thomas slowly got up from his seat as he trudged down the aisle. The driver gave him a look of pity. The bus doors closed behind him as he left the vehicle. 

Hamilton was a Grade A bastard.

…

 

The ride to work the next day was a rare moment of bliss. No sight of Hamilton or any other coworkers on the bus. Thomas slumped against his sleep, closing his eyes and allowing himself a few minutes of rest.

He was awoken by a very familiar, slightly veering towards painful, jab in the side. He shook himself awake, “Is it the last stop?” He stops as he’s greeted by a very recognizable face. 

“You know, I never got you to hit your head five times yesterday.” Hamilton confirmed. Thomas gave him a death glare as he propped himself up. 

“I swear to God, if you try to lick me again I will murder you-”

Thomas once again jerked his head into the window as Hamilton dived towards him. He was unsuccessful with avoidance as he was greeted with a warm stripe of saliva on his neck. Thomas emitted a noise of disgust as he wiped the spit off of his skin. He opened his mouth to berate his (extremely aggravating) coworker, but he was already gone.

…

The third time was the last. 

Thomas watched every person who arrived on the bus. He would make sure Hamilton wouldn’t sit beside him. A young lady settled down next to him as the bus began to accelerate. He gave an internal sigh of relief. He didn’t have to suffer a concussion.

The bus lurched to a stop at the next stop. And there he was. Hamilton in all his five foot seven glory. Hamilton walked up to the innocent bystander and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. “Hello, miss. I apologize for bothering you, but I’d really appreciate it if you could move to a different seat considering that I want to sit besides my fiancé.”

Thomas gaped at him. He did not just play the “dating” card to get what he wanted. Why were all his enemies deranged? 

The last stop was coming up. Hamilton looked at Thomas. He gave him a nod. “Three times insufficient. That’s alright. I can live with it. Nice pants by the way.” He left.

Thomas stayed seated. Why did he feel so disappointed? Why did he feel as if he had let someone down? 

He left the bus.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, this is something i've gone through. some random person i knew would do this to me every time they saw me at the same bus stop. i am projecting my life onto a founding father. sue me.


End file.
